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Post by ELIZABETH SWANN on Sept 5, 2010 2:28:30 GMT -5
She ran the weeks events through her head. Though really, she was only assuming what was going on, considering she was locked up in some dank jail cell, and could only hear the commotion above the cells. But first to start at the beginning.
Why was a sitting in a cell?
An admirable question, and one answered in two simple words: Jack Sparrow. Yes, the elusive Mr. Sparrow had screwed them over yet again. Getting Elizabeth locked up and on her way to the noose, and causing Will to go out and find the blasted Sparrow and drag his... Behind back to Port Royal. All in the good name of Lord Cutler Beckett and the Royal Navy. A name she'd rather tear to shreds and feed to the krakken herself.
What was the commotion about?
Several things really. There was the search for Jack, search for the Black Pearl, an arrival of some self-proclaimed Hunter, Becketts over-bearing rule of his men, and of course her fate down here in the bloody cells. She was certain that Beckett knew she could hear them, and would stand just above her cell purposely to gossip. To cause her already strained nerves to burst into even more of a frenzy.
Elizabeth sighed.
No use in getting so worked up over all the bad business she'd been dealt recently. It wasn't going to get her anywhere... Especially not free of this moldy, smelly, tomb. That's really what it was anyways. A tomb. She had no doubt in her mind, that even if Will could get Jack to come back to Port Royal, and no matter what kind of deal he made with Beckett, all three of them were headed for the noose. Or worse, the wrong end of a musket.
She stood then, her nerves taking control of rational thought, and paced back and forth along the length of the cell. The linens of her skirts wrapped about her ankles, dragging along drippings of water and allowing dirt and grime to cling to it. Her wedding dress had been a rather glamorous, though not too ostentatious, thing when she first donned it. Now it was a grayish brown with dirt and loose from the excess wear.
Elizabeth didn't even want to think about what she smelled like. Beckett was a cruel man indeed. Never allowing her even a spare second outside her cell, and handing her hard bread and stale water through the bars. Thankfully her father was a bit more helpful then in recent times, and brought her small handfuls of chocolates and meat wrapped up in linen. Elizabeth could honestly say she had never loved her father more in those moments.
But he hadn't shown up for a couple of days, and while she worried horrible over Will, she was now terrified as to the fate of her father. She didn't put much passed Beckett or his annoying little men who followed him around like puppies. She couldn't really blame them, he was a man of power, and a force to be reckoned with. But even he could bleed if met with the wrong end of a sword. Elizabeth would just have to plan it just righ-
A creaking noise caught her attention, and her eyes shot up towards the stairs. Usually she'd strain her neck around the bars to see if it was someone worth seeing, but today she simply stepped up to the door of the cell and wrapped her aching fingers around the cold metal.
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